


A Symphony of Nothing

by FirestormNauralagos



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Depression, Dissociation, Maybe a drabble?, here have some garbage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 19:00:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15612840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FirestormNauralagos/pseuds/FirestormNauralagos
Summary: A Joja Co employee suffers. Fun is had by all.





	A Symphony of Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> I mean yeah it's garbage, but I haven't been able to write anything fictional for months and/or years, so yay for progress? This might stay a one shot or I might make it into an actual story if the mood hits. Cross posted on ff.net
> 
> “Nothing really matters/ Anyone can see/ Nothing really matters to me” -Bohemian Rhapsody, Queen

She was so incredibly unhappy.

Hundreds of keyboards clacked at hundreds of computers. The dull click click clicks played the same song, over and over and over, the song that would follow them to their graves. Its lyrics went unsung, but they all knew the words that spoke of their slow, agonizing deaths.

She was so unhappy.

Was it the job that stifled her, swallowing individuality and creativity while belching out pain and misery? It had to be this monotonous job, because what else _could_ it be? Why else would every breath be slow and heavy, each movement sluggish as if dragging stone limbs through jello? What other reason was there that everything she loved died at the tips of her fingers?

There was an enormous clock at the far end of the work floor. It was mounted high on the wall so everyone could see it, see how long they had to sit in this claustrophobic warehouse of an office and attempt to work on assignments that were meaningless in the end. The second hand kept time for the song of the click click clicking keyboards- it counted down the time until they could all go home, go to sleep, get up, and start again. One. Two. Three. Click. Click. Click.

She was unhappy.

Once upon a time, she wanted to write- she wanted to spin stories of fairies and mermaids, of wizards and warriors, of the magic she so fervently believed in. For as far back as she could remember, whenever anyone would ask, “I want to be an author when I grow up!” There was life and energy and magic in the world- she could feel it so strongly it would almost tingle on the tip of her tongue. Warmth and light, happiness and love and laughter. Slowly, though, it all withered away, bit by bit, so slowly that it was almost impossible to notice. Slowly her light died out, flickering dimmer and dimmer until one day her pen wouldn’t write. Once upon a time, she wanted to write- until she couldn't anymore. Click. Click. Click.

She was-

She was at that job when the call came through- _Your grandfather died last night. His funeral will be this Saturday. I’m so sorry._ The air whooshed out of her lungs as though she’d been punched in the gut. On the other end of the phone line, she heard the telltale sound of being hung up on- click. Almost of its own accord, her head moved to rest against the hard plastic desk- thunk. Her limbs were so heavy- maybe they’d finally turned to stone after all. She could barely feel the rest of her body. She was floating above it, flying, watching the clock tick, tick, tick.

She wasn’t able to go to his funeral. Work dragged her back to that desk in the room that slowly shrunk around her as she click, click, clicked her way through paper after paper.

Days passed. Months passed. She had nothing left now- she was an empty husk. The magic and the light had long been gone, but with the death of her grandfather, so died the love and the laughter. It was almost a year before she even had the strength to cry.

The tears fell onto that stack of papers in front of her, the stack that had built up as she struggled to force her arms to work. The sobs came next, forcing her to lean against the desk and bite her hand in an attempt to stay silent, to not interrupt the discordant song. Click click click.

Click click click.

 **Click click-** Crrrrrreak. Almost no one used the top drawers in the Joja standard desks, and her’s stuttered open as she leaned on it. The song was deafening all around her, but when she looked down into the drawer, everything went silent.

There, gathering dust, sat an envelope. It bore her grandfather’s seal.


End file.
